


Tones Of Home

by Yekith



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Domestic, Fluff, M/M, Romance, kinky kitchen timer, only little bit of drama, something else I can't tell you or I'll ruin it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-04
Updated: 2012-01-04
Packaged: 2017-10-28 22:53:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/313060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yekith/pseuds/Yekith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even if still slightly confused by the thought of a Gerard-kitchen combination, Frank smiled widely and carefully advanced through the dark house, following the aroma.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tones Of Home

Gerard leaned against the fridge, nervous fingers toying with a growing hole in his apron as he waited. He had to do this right.

Mikey had gotten him everything he needed and together they had gone over all the steps enough times. He didn't think he had forgotten any ingredient. His brother had even placed them all in order on the table and Gerard had a very good memory. No, he definitely couldn't fail at something so simple, he had to be able to do it by himself. If he'd let Mikey stay and help as he wanted, he would have ended up doing it all. That's why he had practically kicked him out of the house telling him that he _"knew his way around his own kitchen, thank you very much."_

The timer went off. For a moment Gerard got distracted remembering the first time he had touched that thing; how weird it had felt to push the plump plastic figure's penis down little by little as he counted the needed minutes. Their friends could have some bizarre gift ideas, sometimes.

"Oh fuck, the rice!" He then took conscience of what that funny, high-pitched moan had meant -apart from the human-shaped timer being fully erect- and clumsily ran towards the stove, dishcloth in hand.

Burning his hand only once in the process, he successfully removed the cooking pot from the fire. As soon as it was resting on a secure surface, his hand automatically reached down for the knob to put the gas off. He couldn't allow himself to miss those basic safety measures if he wanted to be trusted alone.

Not without some difficulty, he found the wooden spoon somewhere in the counter and stirred the cream and onion gravy -which he'd prepared and cooked first- a little more. As he poured that and the rice together into a glass casserole and moved the spoon around with care, he realized he hadn't tried anything. He had added the amounts he was told to use and waited the exact minutes he was instructed to wait, stirring a few times to make sure it didn't stick to the bottom. But what if the rice was undercooked, or too watery? What if the gravy was too salty, or insipid? It did smell delicious, though.

"Well, Gerard, there's only one way to know whether this is eatable or you'll have to throw it away and call for pizza." With that, he took the spoon to his mouth. What was initially a frown of incertitude, suddenly turned into a pair of greatly surprised eyebrows joined by a proud grin. "FUCK, YES! THANK YOU MIKEY, THANK YOU MOM! Hey...wait...who has the best memory and precision and, against all odds, didn't mess up one detail? Gerard...you own, my friend."

He covered the casserole so their meal would stay warm, but he knew it would need reheating by the time Frank arrived home. That's what the microwave was for. Their beloved, old-school microwave - _"No digital shit, please. Get us a non-digital one and we'll have no trouble with it, I promise,"_ he'd asked his mom when they moved there after getting married.

It wasn't long until the electric oven beeped, signaling that the other part of the menu was ready: breaded mozzarella sticks. Gerard hadn't elaborated those with his own hands, he'd just bought them frozen. The lazy choice made him feel a little ashamed, but he hadn't been able to think of anything else that he was able to do without asking for _more_ help. He could have tried with chicken, since he knew of one or two ways to prepare it. However, with Frank being a vegetarian, that wouldn't have worked well at all.

Once he had all the food sorted out and a couple of candles set on strategic places, he got to work on the table. First off, he chose the tablecloth that his husband loved the most. One that had flowers, leaves and other random curvy designs embroidered with thick thread over soft cotton fabric. Gerard knew the napkins didn't match it -Mikey had commented on it earlier, but wiping their mouths with them felt like being caressed; so who cared about the way they looked? Not him or Frank, that for sure. He even sprayed them with a little bit of a soft, fruity perfume, because _those_ were the kind of details the couple cared about and enjoyed.

The dishes had raised illustrations of horses on them and the cups, again, were completely different. But they loved the weird rugosity of those cheap, fake-glass articles. People would say those were not the proper glasses to drink wine in. Well, that was another unwritten rule Gerard and Frank ignored.

"Wine will taste like wine," Gerard shrugged, going for the bottle Mikey had left for him on the far right corner of the counter. He filled the two glasses with practiced ease and smiled; the love of his life would be home any moment now.

Frank was surprised to smell food as soon as he opened the door. He was always home before Gerard nowadays, much to Gerard's dislike. Early on, while Gerard didn't have a job, he'd pick Frank up from the place he worked at every day. Now he could only walk him there in the morning. Frank suspected that his husband's doubts before accepting his current job, had been for the most part due to his fear of letting him walk home alone. He shouldn't be afraid. Frank might have seemed small and vulnerable, but he knew that city by heart like the palm of his hand. He had also taken a course of self-defense and wouldn't let anyone fuck with him. Still, Gerard worried a lot. For that reason Frank found it strange that, having gotten out of work earlier, he hadn't showed up at his.

It wasn't that late in the afternoon; but it being the middle of winter, it was surely already dark. In spite of that, Frank never turned on the lights. He perfectly knew where he was going. He made his way around the couch and threw his coat, gloves, scarf, bag and any other items in his possession on it. He was aware that he'd probably left a mess but couldn't care less, saving only one thing from the pile of discarded belongings.

Frank unrolled the cardboard over the coffee table, straightening the edges. His fingers then touched the sticky plasticine letters that read "Best Teacher Ever" and roamed over them. Below it, the names of his little students were written in the same fashion. A grin took over Frank's face and he didn't need light to see the multiple colors. He would make sure to put that heartwarming present up on some wall tomorrow for anyone else to see. Now he needed to find out what the matter was with that inviting smell.

"Gee? Gerard...is that you, love?" Frank called, or more like hoped. He was now thinking that maybe, it was just his mom -or Gerard's- that had wanted to give them both a surprise. Although if that was the case...why hadn't them come out to greet him?

"I'm here in the kitchen!" came Gerard's voice.

Even if still slightly confused with the thought of a Gerard-kitchen combination, Frank smiled widely and carefully advanced through the dark house, following the aroma. Once in the kitchen, his arms gained a life of their own. They stretched before him and seemed to guide him directly to where Gerard was standing in front of the counter, wrapping themselves around his waist.

"Oh hi, Frankie babe..." Gerard turned around and pecked Frank's lips. Now that his young husband was finally there -with his characteristic cheerful tone and affectionate embraces- he felt happy, yet nervous. Would he like the meal? "How was your day?"

"It was great, I'm just kinda tired. The kids wanted to play tag, you know how that is..." Frank laughed. He buried his nose into Gerard's neck, inhaled and kissed it lazily. "Mmm... How about yours? How come you're home so early? And...you made _dinner_?"

"Oh, so many questions!" Gerard chuckled nervously, rubbing Frank's nape. "My day was boring, but okay. And...I'd already arranged for Matt to cover up for me so I could be home earlier and make dinner. I think I addressed all of your questions with that, didn't I?"

"Yep, and remind me to give Matt a bone-crashing hug next time he visits. Thanks to him I'll be enjoying a yummy-some dinner," Frank said, his voice getting more seductive towards the end. He then proceeded to gently bite Gerard's earlobe while meowing in the way he knew made him weak.

"F-fuck...jeez, Frankie," Gerard shivered, almost forgetting what he wanted to ask. "I...how do you know dinner will be yummy?"

"Not yummy, _yummy-some_ , and I know because that's how it smells and my nose is never wrong."

"Well...I tried the rice and I think it's not bad -if I say so myself," Gerard admitted proudly, although he still felt bad. "Anyway, you know cooking is not my thing I...I made the rice and the gravy, but the mozzarella sticks are bought. I'm sorry, love, you're such a good chef and you cook for us most of the time and the special dinner last week was so perfect and I..."

"Shh..." Frank bit a little harder to stop Gerard from rambling any longer. "I cook because I love to cook, you don't owe me anything. I know it's not as easy for you, so no need to feel bad. About last week well...you know my mom helped me, and it _needed_ to be a super-fucking-special dinner! You don't turn 30 every day, you old man! To think you were _so_ young when we meet, time have flown..."

"Hey!" Gerard pinched Frank's ass, making him yelp. "Being the size of a 15-year old doesn't make you one forever, mister. I'll remind you that you're 26, not _that_ younger."

"First, I am not _that_ small and second...4 years is a looong way to go."

"I thought the same and here I am, an old man in your own words," Gerard faked a sad tone.

"A sexy one, though." Frank showered Gerard with sloppy kisses on whatever part of his face his mouth would randomly land. "And...I'll...repeat: my nose...never...fails me. Oh! Talking about my nose..."

"Your nose," Gerard found it with his fingertips, kissing it afterwards, "is too cute."

"Thanks but...said nose smells something else besides the food. Smells like...wax? Yeah, burning wax. Fucking...candles?" Frank smacked his forehead.

"Yeah?" Gerard knew what was coming and was prepared to counteract.

"Gee, it's very romantic and all, I mean...I love the detail but...isn't it a little dangerous? What if..." His lips were silenced. Gerard was an expert when it came to distraction, for it only took Frank three seconds to put his objections aside and kiss back.

After a couple of minutes occupied with tongues, hands, moans and some utensils being knocked off the counter, the couple made a pause to breathe. Gerard then regained consciousness and thought it better to attend Frank's concerns. "The candles...they're over the fridge, don't worry. I just wanted this night to include them, you know? To kinda give the air _that_ romantic feeling. But I'd never risk having this ruined with a fire, Frankie! We'll just let them consume there, Mikey got me plates big enough to contain all the wax."

"You think of everything, uh?" All of a sudden Frank felt guilty for doubting Gerard and bringing them both back to reality. He couldn't help it sometimes. "I'm sorry, Gee. Thank you."

"No need to apologize, I understand your worry. Like...sure, we do pretty well, but candles on the table would be to force it..."

"Yeah, I don't trust myself so much!" Frank laughed, then remembered something. "Uh...I'm gonna be a pain in the ass again, but tell me: the kitchen light is on, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it is," Gerard answered with as much certainty as he could, praying that his husband would believe it. "Can we go back to kissing now, please?"

Frank would have gladly complied right away; kissing Gerard was something he could never say 'no' to. However, the light subject was one they'd argued about many times, and he wanted to make sure Gerard was telling the truth. Therefore he walked towards the door and then to the left where the switch was, running his hand over it.

" _Now_ is on," he sighed. "Gerard, how many times are we gonna go over this? It's just...stupid. Cooking would be a lot easier if you could at least distinguish _something_. You have that chance, so why not..."

"You know I like things to be equal for both of us," Gerard interrupted.

"I wasn't here so your argument is invalid, Way," Frank responded. He tried to hide the amusement that was beginning to replace the annoyance. Gerard was just too sweet. Stupid, but sweet. He couldn't be mad at him.

"You are now, so turn it off."

"No." Frank stood in front of the switch, blocking it with his body. He pouted and wiggled his hips, sure that his actions reflected in his voice. "Don't you wanna make out my sexy silhouette, baby?"

"No if you can't admire my hot body, sweetheart. So if you leave the light on, I'll just keep my eyes closed and make out _with_ your sexy self instead." Gerard got closer and Frank threw his arms around his neck, hands getting tangled in his hair.

Before Gerard could reach his lips, Frank moved his hands to the other's jaw, cheeks and finally eyes, playfully tugging at his eyelids. "Open up! Open up, you stubborn bitch!"

"Ouch, stop it!" Gerard tried to push the preying fingers away.

"I won't until you open them. Come on!"

"Okay, okay, fine! But just because I think that no eyes at all would look far worse than the fucked up ones I have." Gerard obeyed and felt Frank's fingers slide back down, resting on his collarbone.

"I wouldn't notice the difference," Frank smirked, "so I might still spoon your eyeballs out if you misbehave..."

Gerard could hear the smile in Frank's words, he could picture all his facial expressions just by hearing him. "You're such a psycho. How are you allowed near children, again?" he joked.

"Shut up." Frank slapped his arm. "I'm only _your_ personal psycho."

"That you are. An adorable one, though."

The arguments and conflict -which had never been truly serious to start with- died off. Frank and Gerard returned to the activity that gave them the most pleasure. Or one of them, at least. Frank sat over the counter, Gerard in between his open legs as they kissed noisily. Their hungry hands exploring under clothes and the needy exchange of saliva appeared to momentarily satiate their appetite. So much that they'd became oblivious to what they were about to do before it all started; until a bell-like sound was heard.

"Oh...fuck. I think I p-played tag for too long today, I'm...I'm still hearing the kids' bells." Frank frowned, panting.

Gerard laughed. "That was the microwave, Frankie. I was heating up our dinner a little."

"Oh...dinner, right!"

"It's ready, by the way. Shall I take you to your place, sir?"

"Of course, my lovely husband!" Frank exclaimed.

Gerard offered his hand and waited for Frank to find and take it before guiding him to the table. He moved the chair out for him like a perfect gentleman, mentally admitting that things were definitely easier with the special light on. He was glad he had given up his stubbornness. The difference wasn't great, but enough for him to have a slightly better control of what he did. He wanted that night to be perfect, he wanted to take care of Frank the way he deserved it.

Once he made sure Frank was comfortably sitting, Gerard went for the dishes. Meanwhile, Frank's fingertips danced along the tablecloth, feeling each detail and smiling anxiously.

Frank felt blessed with that special dinner. He could practically taste the love and dedication his husband had employed while preparing it. He, more than anyone, knew it wasn't easy; and Gerard had even less practice. It made the gesture far more valuable. Frank thought he was going to cry a few times - _that_ moved he felt, but the saltiness of tears would have ruined the delicious meal. He complimented everything once and again and emitted satisfied sounds to ensure Gerard got the message.

As per usual, they talked practically all the time while eating, even with their mouths full. They didn't care about manners; not when they weren't able to communicate with their eyes and their hands were busy. They needed to hear each other's voices and it didn't matter if it was through small talk, spontaneous words of love, humming or even the singing of random tunes.

Darkness was all Frank's eyes could see. It had been so since that day he woke up in a hospital at age 15 learning that he had, in fact, saved his dog's life; but the car had hit him instead.

He couldn't see Gerard's smile, yet he knew he was smiling. He heard Gerard's laughter and his mind filled with colors. The corners of his mouth hurt as his own smile grew.

Gerard couldn't admire it. He was barely able to discern Frank's small contour and disheveled long hair thanks to the light that came from behind him. Shadows, silhouettes -all depending on the illumination. That was all that could be saved of his vision after glaucoma attacked viciously and with no warning when he was only 20.

Right now he _chose_ to close his eyes, anyway. He closed his eyes and brought back the very blurry image of Frank's face he had gotten when he first met him and could still see a little more.

Only Frank wasn't smiling back then. His mom had forced him out of his room -where he'd locked himself up for nearly a year- and into that center where they could help him accept and cope with his new disability; together with teaching him all he needed to go on with his life. Gerard -who had been there for already three months after moping at home for about five- was the first one to welcome him. He dried his tears with a tissue, gave him a hug and whispered that everything would be okay. And for some reason Frank believed him.

It had felt natural for them to eventually fall in love after spending so much time together; supporting, encouraging, comforting each other. Just as natural as it was for most part of their families, who had seemed to sense the more-than-friendly love between them before they acknowledged it themselves.

However, relatives hadn't been easy to convince when, five years and a marriage later, Frank and Gerard decided to live alone. The subject had brought up confronting opinions and a lot of consequent arguing, but they had finally agreed on an alternative that left everyone more or less satisfied. The boys moved to a house that was only two away from Frank's mom's and three blocks from Gerard's family. An intercom system was also installed which allowed them to quickly ring their families if they had any problem. Needless to say, it had rarely been used; so both mothers constantly visited them -more often than their sons would like- with any excuse. Frank and Gerard's independence was limited, although still better than anything they could have imagined ten years ago.

They were convinced that they could perfectly live together and alone. They could take care of themselves and each other like any other couple. They could inclusively maintain themselves.

Sure, Gerard wasn't exactly happy with his current job answering the phone for a cable company; but it helped pay the bills while he kept on working on comic ideas. Since the loss of his sight had ruined his dreams of becoming a cartoonist, Frank had encouraged him to try coming up with plots instead. For the moment, a friend had made him an offer to lend his voice to some characters for a cartoon he intended to present to a famous TV network. Just by thinking about it, Gerard felt the excitement of a little kid. So did Frank, who had sworn to tag along and _demand_ to have his voice in there too.

Frank had so far worked as a kindergarten and daycare music teacher. A lot of people had told him it would be impossible for a blind guy to get a job at a normal school, but he proved them all wrong. With some help from the regular teachers, he did his job as well -if not more- as many. The kids adored him and particularly enjoyed describing things to him. They were his eyes, his best connection to the seeing world. The following year, he would be also working as a first-grade teacher in an institute for visually impaired children. As much as the responsibility terrified him, he couldn't wait to start. Gerard, same as Frank's parents, couldn't be any more proud of him.

Life wasn't easy, but...is it for anyone? Gerard and Frank were happy with theirs. When they thought back, they often meditated about what they would do if offered the chance to change the past and keep their sight. It would be tempting, no doubt, to be able to see the world and the faces of those they loved again. Nevertheless they believed that maybe, they would politely decline. And not only because of thinking that they wouldn't have met otherwise -perhaps they would have just the same, if they were destined to. It was mostly because, in a way, they saw all they needed to see with their ears, hands, noses. They felt everything with more intensity. Now that they had known this different way of living for ten years and gotten used to it, they weren't sure if they would change it for anything.

"Hey...Frankie?" Gerard called softly as he swallowed the last bite of breaded mozzarella.

"Yeah?"

"You're beautiful."

"And you, Gee..." Frank mused over his next words, unafraid of using a certain verb. It held no sarcasm, no lie. "...are the prettiest person I've ever seen."


End file.
